


Honesty

by apiphile



Category: Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: Humiliation, M/M, Pee, Porn Magazines, cross-dressing, dub-con, genuinely disgusting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-09
Updated: 2010-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/pseuds/apiphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vyvyan is very thorough in his search for the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honesty

Noon rolled around over a certain student house in the nastier bit of North London. Bits of plaster drifted down in a snowstorm of damaged ceiling, and Neil Pye gave the crack that had just appeared in it a despondent and puzzled look. "What's happening now?"

"Noon's rolling around over the house, Neil." Mike said without looking up from the newspaper.

The peace, if peace it was, was shattered as thoroughly as the plate that came flying in through the garden door and smashed on the opposite wall, accompanied by a bellow of "VIRGIN!" and just preceding Rik.

"I AM NOT A VIRGIN!" Rik screamed, red in the face and scrambling backwards away from Vyvyan. "I. AM. NOT. A. VIRGIN!"

Another plate smashed against the wall. Mike shook his head. "Vyvyan, I don't mean to put a dampener on your pastimes, but that was our last piece of crockery."

"ADMIT THAT YOU'RE A VIRGIN," Vyvyan shouted, ignoring Mike. Rik, who had managed to wedge himself into the corner between the TV and Neil rather than making a break for upstairs like any sensible person might do, began his denial but was interrupted by Vyvyan's expression of malignant glee as a new and evidently even more ingenious idea entered his pierced head. "And – " Vyvyan gave a triumphant look around the living room, wagging his finger at his cornered prey, "- you fancy me." He gave Mike a smug smile, which Mike ignored.

"I most certainly do _not_, Vyvyan," Rik oiled, emerging a little from his hole in defence of this new accusation. "I happen to be entirely for the girls. One hundred percent manly manly man. Notthatthere'sanythingrwongwithbeingapoof, obviously, but I am as much of a lady's man as, as, as Mike."

"No you're not," Mike said, circling something in the newspaper, "we've talked about this before. Copyright, Rik. We can't all go around claiming to be lady's men, where would our individual defining characteristics come from, mm? Think before you open your mouth."

"YesMikeSorryMike." Rik rounded on Vyvyan again. "ANYWAY the point is I am most assuredly _not_ a virgin and I certainly don't fancy – " Rik curled his lip in disgust, about the one thing he managed to do well and convincingly, " - _you_."

"Yes," Vyvyan said, hefting a chair in one hand. "You," he grabbed it with the other and began to swing. "DO."

Rik hit the carpet in a puddle of unconscious sociology student and Vyvyan stood over him with his lower jaw jutting out. "ARE YOU GOING TO ARGUE NOW?"

"He can't hear you, Vyv, he's knocked out," Neil said helpfully.

"Shut up, hippy." Vyvyan headbutted him in the face.

"Vyv, you can't just leave him cluttering up the place like that. It's unhygienic. I've got a lady from the Borough Council coming around to look at my pipe-fittings in half an hour, if you know what I mean, and we're not going to get much inspection done with Lenin-boy here sprawled out on the floor like a particularly unattractive Occidental rug, capice?"

"An excellent point, Michael," Vyvyan scooped Rik up like a bag of dirty laundry and slung him over his shoulder before stamping out.

* * *

 

When Rik came to he realised immediately that something was amiss. It might have been the heavy police-issue handcuffs attached to each wrist, or the chafing of electrical wires around his ankles. It might have been simple weight of experience; generally if he'd been knocked out something was wrong in the state of the house.

"Vyvyan!" Rik squawked without even so much as cracking open an eye. "Untie me right now! This isn't funny! I'll write to the Human Rights Commission! I'll tell the pigs! You can't do this! Vyvyan! You bastard!"

There was a prolonged flushing noise – well, more of an angry gurgle, really, but Rik'd been living in the house for long enough to have mentally labelled the noise "toilet flushing" despite the appearances to the contrary and the fact that nothing ever seemed to go _down_ the toilet without being poked by a stick – and Vyvyan stomped back into Rik's bedroom. Vyvyan never walked _anywhere_, he always stamped, stomped, thundered or occasionally ran. Oh, and he'd once goose-stepped at Rik's parents. Daddy had been very upset.

Vyvyan plonked down hard on Rik's only chair. "Where d'you keep your porn?" he demanded.

"I'm not telling you, matey," Rik scoffed. He added, "and anyway I don't have any, it's horrible and sexist and demeaning. And – look, just UNTIE ME!"

"Nope." Vyvyan got up again and stood over the bed, pointing at Rik's face. He addressed Rik in the tone he usually used for explaining one of his cunning plans to Mike; this in itself was worrying as almost all of Vyvyan's plans involved dynamite at some stage and Rik had only just grown his eyebrows back since the last lot. "I am not going to untie you until you admit some basic facts, Rik. One, you are a big girly virgin – "

"I am _NOT_!"

"- And two, you quite _obviously_ fancy me." Vyvyan spoilt his expression of arch triumph somewhat by concluding his speech with, "… Bumface."

"For God's sake, Vyvyan!" Rik howled, but it was no use. The punk was already going through Rik's belongings like a localised tornado, throwing things over his shoulder with abandon as he went, including the china clown Mummy had bought for him and that Rik had been _hiding_ behind some very large and unused textbooks.

"STOP _IT_ VYVYAN THAT'S MY PERSONAL PROPERTY!"

"It's not even leaving your room, Bumface," Vyvyan retorted, finding the squeaky floorboard after a peremptory search. "Ah - _HA_." He stamped on the wrong end. Nothing happened. He stamped even harder on the other end and the floorboard flew up so fast it almost hit Vyvyan in the face. "Ah _hah_," Vyvyan repeated, pulling glossies out of Rik's previously inviolate hiding place with great glee and holding them aloft. "Found your girl mags, _Virgin_." He peered at the first one and read the title slowly. "Body-builder Monthly?"

Rik wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. "I was going to get muscles so you couldn't keep hitting me with the kitchen table," he said hastily and sulkily."

"Then why are the page stuck together?" Vyvyan demonstrated. "_Pervert_," he added rather happily.

Face burning, Rik found himself so overwhelmed by a tide of potential responses that he was almost unable to answer. "It – I – it's _damp_ under there!"

Vyvyan succeeded in unsticking the pages and Rik began to wonder if it was actually physically possible to die from embarrassment. "Hey," Vyvyan said in tones of gleeful discovery, "there's your _dress_ down here too!"

"It is _not_ mine, it's from a girl who stayed in here, I – "

"Rik," Vvyan said in his Reasonable Voice (which just sounded like he was about to headbutt you a little more quietly than normal), "you have never, ever, ever, _ever_ had a girl in here, ever."

"Helen! Helen was here!"

"Helen," Vyvyan pointed out in the same reasonable tones, "was a mad axe murderess." Something soft and fabric and vaguely perfumed landed on Rik and he opened his eyes in (for once mute) horror. "Wear it!"

"It's not _mine_," Rik insisted. "And anyway I can't, I'm all tied up, aren't I?" he couldn't help a slightly triumphant snort, because Vyvyan was pretty stupid if he hadn't thought of something as simple as that.

Vyvyan headbutted him in the face.

* * *

 

"Wake up you bastard," Vyvyan advised.

Rik stirred slowly. Vyvyan kicked the bed.

"Oh _no_," Rik groaned, "it wasn't a dream – why am I wearing a dress?"

"Because," Vyvyan explained with great patience and care, pointing out the very obvious to the very stupid, "you are a girl."

"And why am I still tied up?" Rik asked with that peculiar half-laughing voice that he used when he wanted to lose his temper but was too aware and scared of the consequences. Vyvyan knew it well.

"Because," Vyvyan replied as helpfully and patiently as before, "you still haven't admitted that you are _completely_ in love with me and want to kiss me with tongues."

"Well I could hardly do that while I was unconscious could I?" Rik snapped. His wrath was never particularly impressive, but stretched over a single bed in a gingham dress that Vyvyan hadn't really bothered to do up properly it lost even what little bite it had originally had. "And anyway I _don't_."

"Yes you do," Vyvyan observed, settling on Rik's chair, and putting his huge, heavy Doc Martens up on Rik's bed. They acted as anchors, most of the time, weighing his skinny body down in case a gust of wind bore him away. He spread one of Rik's magazines between his hands. "I'm just going to stay here until you admit it," Vyvyan announced, pretending to read.

"This is all completely illegal and against my human rights," Rik huffed, looking very sill indeed with the red mark on his forehead and the ridiculous dress rucked up enough to reveal the lower reaches of his thoroughly revolting underpants. Vyvyan himself had given up on knickers entirely the week before after he'd discovered that his cleanest pair was being used to cover a broken window rather than a piece of plywood as he'd believed them to be. Then when he'd tried to put the bastards on, they'd yelled at him. Apart from a little chafing from the seam of his jeans it wasn't proving a great hardship.

"You look _really_ stupid," Vyvyan mused.

"Yes, well, whose fault is that?" Rik growled, tugging on his handcuffs to no avail.

"Your parents," Vyvyan said, quite pleased with himself, "for having such an ugly baby!"

"I'm going to write to the United Nations," Rik whined, "_and_ Thatcher. Let me go!"

"How?" Vyvyan asked, picking his nose. "You're tied up. Listen to this: _using a chest-expander,_" he read aloud, ignoring Rik's threats, "_can expand your chest by up to five inches._ Are you trying to grow boobies to go with your dress?"

"No I am _not_," Rik fell silent – an unusual state of affairs – for quite some time, leaving Vyvyan to look at the pictures of a lot of bulky bastards in Speedos with stupid hair posing like a bunch of girls. When Rik piped up again his voice was less indignant and more urgent.

"Vyvyan _untie_ me."

"NO."

"Look I need to use the loo," Rik said with real desperation.

"Tough!" Vyvyan yawned hugely and put his arms behind his head, leaving the magazine resting on this stomach.

"You can't just leave me here to wee in the bed," Rik choked in horror.

"Why not? _I_ wee'd on your bed on Sunday."

"You _bastard_. Vyvyan, you absolute utter BASTARD!"

"Did you know if I shut one eye you look a bit like a real girl," Vyvyan pointed out, doing so.

"I am _not - _ look, I don't care, just untie me – I really really need to _wee_," Rik howled.

"Shut. Up." Vyvyan threw the magazine at his head, Rik yelped, and the smell of ammonia filled the room, bringing with it a slight increase in air temperature, although whether that was from the steaming wee that had soaked over Rik's disgusting pants, girly dress and the sheet blow or from his red hot burning shamed face it was hard to say.

Rather than any one of a thousand responses which could have rubbed it in even further, Vyvyan simply grinned emptily, exclaimed, "GREAT!" and sat forwards on the chair as if he was watching _Bastard Squad: Violent Cops Swear Lots_ on Channel 4.

"I hate you!" Rik shouted, by this point half-sobbing. "You utter, utter bastard."

"You _fancy_ me," Vyvyan insisted.

"If I agree will you untie me?" Rik mumbled, apparently weighing the remains of his dignity and the perception of his heterosexuality against having to spend all day wallowing in his own piss in a dress while Vyvyan leered at him.

"Yes."

"Alright." Rik sighed. "I fancy you. Now will you let me go?"

"Great!" Vyvyan all but rubbed his hands together and said, standing, "While you're wearing a dress you count as a girl."

"Vyvyan – " Rik gave a nervous laugh. "You're going to untie me now, aren't you? You promised – you said you'd – "

"Which means _this_ isn't poofy," Vyvyan conclude, swinging himself on top of Rik, wee-stained dress and all, and snogging him enthusiastically if not very well.

There was approximately _nothing_ sexy about it; Rik went vaguely limp and occasionally tried to drag his tongue away from Vyvyan's which was churning about in his mouth like a load in a washing machine, and Vyvyan lay stiff and awkward and uncomfortable on Rik's scrawny body like a fallen door while he thrashed his gob about.

How _both_ of them managed to get a stiffie in these circumstances was a mystery, but Vyvyan felt something digging into his thigh at the same sort of time as he felt his own jeans get a little bit tighter.

What Rik was probably trying to say into Vyvyan's mouth was something like, "is that your willy? GET OFF ME NOW!" but Vyvyan decided he couldn't understand what Rik was saying, and sort of rubbed his hips on the wet patch. Because …well … why not?

There was definitely some sort of squirming going on underneath him. Vyvyan wasn't worried. He'd got quite good at tying things up with cable and those police handcuffs were a total bastard to get off. He – whoops, in the dress, so _she_ \- wasn't going to go anywhere. Vyvyan mashed his tongue further into Rik's mouth and made vague but forceful humping motions with his hips.

Which was … fun.

He wasn't really paying attention so the moment when the damp of wee and the sticky damp and cessation of squirming from Rik passed him by. A little while after he noticed it he _also_ had other things on his mind, his jeans suddenly uncomfortably squelchy on the inside. Vyvyan finally removed his mouth from Rik's and wiped it on the back of his hand.

"We're never, ever going to tell anyone about this, right?" Rik muttered.

"No," Vyvyan agreed, wallowing.

"Are you going to untie me now?"

"No," Vyvyan grinned, "but I _am_ going to steal your girly knickers."


End file.
